In ten days it was all in, the six million and odd feet of boards and timber. And as Halloran walked down to the bridge one night and leaned on the railing and looked over the broad piles he was nervous and depressed. A part of the strain was over and he was feeling the reaction. The key to the situation was in his hands now--it rested with him to carry the lumber safely over to the day for selling, and then to make it pay. He could not yet see Mr. Higginson. He had been to Doctor Brown's this evening and the Doctor was decisive. The moon came out as he stood there and shed its light on the river and the lumber. He straightened up to go; then waited until he caught a glimpse of the watchman on his round of the yards. BOOK III -- THROUGH FIRE CHAPTER I--A Little Talk with Captain Craig Full as the newspapers were of the great corn deal on the Board of Trade, there was no getting at the facts that lay behind it. The brokers seemed to look on Le Duc as their principal; Le Duc had nothing to say. Halloran read the papers eagerly every day, watching for a word that would justify his conjectures, but the secret was too well kept. One morning a day or two after the lumber had come in, he asked Craig to step into the office. “Captain,” he said, “I want to talk to you about this corn business. I'm inclined to think that if we could find out who is backing Apples it might be just what we want to know most.” “You think it's Bigelow?” “Well, if it is Bigelow, and if his reasons for keeping dark are what I think, the sooner we know it the better for Higginson & Company. Do you think, from anything Mrs. Craig has said, that Bigelow knows who Apples and his wife are?” “Why, no. Jennie doesn't talk much about those times.” “I don't like to bother you with this, Captain, but business and family matters are so mixed that I don't know any other way to get at it. Would you be willing to find out if there were any letters--anything that Le Duc might have got hold of that would give him a grip on Bigelow?” The Captain looked grave. “I kind o' don't like to stir her up, now she's having such a good rest. But--well, I don't know why not. Yes, I'll ask her. I'm afraid,” he added, as he arose, “I'm afraid I'm getting kind o' chicken-hearted these days. You see, I haven't had her back very long. Yes, the first good chance that comes along I'll talk it over with her and let you know what she says.” During most of the day Halloran was shut up in the office, figuring and working out some new schedules. At noon he spent an hour or more uptown, and a half-hour climbing around under the bridge; and later Crosman was hailed, out in the yards. “Could you drop around this evening for awhile?” said Halloran. “Why, yes,” was the rather reluctant reply, followed by a blush and a grin. “Any particular time?” “Right after supper, for half an hour or so.” “All right; I'll be there.”